


Just My Luck

by lipah



Series: Gods and Monsters [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Canon Relationships, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone knows about mythical creatures, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Soul mates writing appears on skin, Spark Stiles Stilinski, They're just part of this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lipah/pseuds/lipah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wakes up to find that he's finally going to meet his soulmate, because a drawing has appeared on his skin, apparently done by his soulmate. Too bad it's a penis and in the middle of his forehead.</p>
<p> (This story can totally be read as a stand alone. It just ended up inspiring a much bigger universe for me)</p>
<p><b>EDIT: 12/14/17</b><br/>I've reread and updated this fic a bit. I'm doing it with all the stories in this AU.</p>
<p>Series length: 150k+</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> I have no idea guys, just no idea. But here is the mess that is this story. I really like the writing appearing on soulmate idea, but I do wonder if it's only their soulmate who can write it, or can other people? So many questions that I didn't bother answering.

Derek woke up slowly, to the feeling of something dragging across his forehead. It brushed along his skin, feather soft, and almost not there at all. He slapped his hand to his face expecting to find an insect, but nothing was there. He huffed, rolled over, and decided it was a dream. He shuffled in his bed, tugging his covers up to his shoulders, and then settling again. A second later the feeling returned, in the same spot, but this time with more pressure. He sighed, trailing his fingers over the skin of his forehead, and then rolled out of bed. He still felt half asleep, like his dreams were trying to crawl out into the real world. He yawned as he walked down the familiar hallway of his parent's house and into the closest bathroom. It was still a little strange, being back in his childhood home, and it took a moment for his hand to find the light switch and flip it on. It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but once they had, he could see it. On his forehead, just below his hairline, was a crude drawing of a penis. He stared at it for a long time, before he let his head fall forward and he groaned again. Of course his soulmate was an idiot; of course, they were the kind of person to draw a penis their forehead. He couldn't get something normal because that wasn't the kind of luck Derek Hale had.

 

He grabbed a hand towel, wet it, and started to desperately scrub at the drawing. He knew it wasn't going to work; it wouldn't go away until his soulmate removed the mark from their body. The scrubbing made him feel better like he had taken some kind of action to try and remove it. By the time he was done, the skin on his forehead was bright red, and nothing had been accomplished. So Derek stalked back to his bedroom, grabbed his suitcase, and started to dig desperately through it in the hopes that he had something to cover it with. He glanced at his phone, 4:24 displayed on the screen. His alarm was going to go off in just over half an hour anyway; he might as well be up now.

 

Stuffed in one of the pockets of his suitcase he found a beanie and sighed with relief. He changed into shorts and a t-shirt, tugged on the beanie, and headed out for his morning jog. He plugged headphones into his ears, tucked his phone into his arm strap, and then set out. His forehead itched the whole time he ran, almost like a sunburn in the moments before his body healed it away. He tried to run slowly, letting his feet hit the ground harder than normal, letting the vibration travel up his legs, and distract him from the drawing. But, only an hour and a half later he was back at his parent's house, and he found Laura's car parked right behind his rental. She had pulled in so close, that he would never be able to leave without her car being moved first. He knew she had done it on purpose so he couldn't skip out before seeing her. He hesitated for a moment, glancing toward the woods, and the rest of his family's houses. There were places he could hide, people he could hang out with, who wouldn't instantly know something was wrong. But, Laura was persistent, and she was determined to spend a bunch of time together now that he was home. Derek squared his shoulders, turned back to the house, and headed inside. Laura was in the kitchen sitting at the table, with a mug full of coffee, and the newspaper opened in front of her. Derek walked past her, grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee from the pot she had made.

 

“What's with the hat, Der-Bear?” she asked. She hadn't even moved, when he looked back at her, he hadn't even seen her look up at him. She had zeroed in on the hat instantly, making him wonder--not for the first time--if Laura was something more than a werewolf. He had to fight to keep himself from frowning at her because that was essentially an admission that something was wrong.

 

“Nothing, I just decided to wear it,” he answered, as he walked over to join her at the table. He pulled a chair out and dropped down into it. Laura finally looked up at him and raised one of her carefully styled eyebrows at him.

 

“It's going to be a million degrees out today, why would you want that?”

 

“It was fairly cold when I left for my run,” he answered and then took a sip of coffee. Before Laura could say anything else, Cora shuffled into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess and she looked for all intents and purposes like an angry overtired teenager, even though she was on break from her second year at college, and not actually a teenager anymore. Derek felt a twinge of sympathy, he had only just finished his own college life, but it wasn't that long ago he was in her place. She walked up to the table and took Derek's mug from him, downing the contents as she continued passed him to the counter to refill the mug. “Come on,” he mumbled.

 

She started in on the freshly poured mug, and then glanced at Derek. “What's with the beanie?” she asked.

 

“Nothing! I just decided to wear it,” he snapped, making both his sisters raise their eyebrows at him. The two women glanced at each other, Laura's lips quirking up at a dangerous angle before she looked back at Derek.

 

“Wow, sensitive,” Laura said.

 

“You're wearing it too low,” Cora said, after another sip of coffee. She set the mug down on the counter and reached out to pull the beanie back away from his forehead. Derek yanked away from her, pushing himself to his feet, and knocking his chair back so it clattered to the ground. His sisters looked at each other again and then back to him. He stared wide-eyed at them for a second, before Laura lunged across the table at him. Derek jumped back again and darted to the side to try and avoid her. He collided with Cora, who grabbed at him, but he had almost a foot of height on her and was able to pull away again. He turned again, stumbling backwards and into Laura, who he only had 3 inches on. She grabbed the beanie with one hand but lost her balance as she did. Derek's legs tangled against the fallen chair, and both of them were sent to the ground with a shout and yelp.

 

Laura stared up at Cora, holding the beanie up in the air in celebration. Derek rolled onto his side and covered his face with his hands as quickly as he could. During all the commotion none of the siblings noticed their parents standing in the doorway, or their brother and uncle who had stepped into the room. “For werewolves,” Peter said, making them all jump. “You two aren't very graceful.”

 

“What's going on?” Sam asked his eyebrows furrowed as he looked from one of his siblings to the next.

 

“Derek's wearing a hat!” Laura shouted.

 

“Derek's wearing a beanie!” Cora shouted.

 

“And?” Talia asked, shaking her head a little as she did.

 

“He's hiding something,” Laura said, as she got to her feet. Cora pointed accusingly at Derek, who was still on his side with his face covered.

 

“You're almost 30,” Derek snapped, “what the hell was that for?” But, he slowly sat up, and let his family see what he had been hiding. There was a second of silence before the laughter started, and Derek knew he was never going to live this moment down.

 

“Oh my god, Der, let me take a picture!” Laura said, dropping his beanie as she hurried to grab her phone.

 

“No,” he snapped, scrambling back to his feet and trying to get out of the room. Instead, Peter stopped him, snapped a picture, and kept laughing. Derek could see that Sam had turned around, laughing so hard that he was using the wall for support. “It's not that funny.”

 

“Oh Sweetie,” Talia said, covering her mouth with her hands to hide her smile. “It kind of is.”

 

“Thanks, mom,” he muttered and pushed past the group. He made it back to his bedroom, where he collapsed on the bed, and waited for the world to swallow him whole. He managed to spend ten whole minutes alone, before someone—his dad—was knocking on his door.

 

“Come in,” he mumbled. His dad opened the door just enough that Derek could hear the laughter downstairs, slip inside and then close the door again to block out the sound. He sat down on the bed next to him and waited for Derek to sit up. It took him a few more minutes before he reluctantly sat up and looked at his dad. Matthew held out the beanie, and let Derek pull it back on before he said anything.

 

“It's not the worst thing that could have shown up,” he said slowly, making Derek's frown deepen. Matthew laughed softly and then nodded his head. “Okay, it's fairly bad.”

 

“Yeah, that's an understatement,” Derek snapped. “What if this means my soulmate is an idiot? Or some kind of drunk?”

 

“Or a college student who had a little too much to drink,” Matthew offered.

 

“Or a high school student who had too much to drink,” Derek said.

 

“Well that would be unfortunate, but if your soulmate is too young you'll just have to wait it out,” Matthew said. It wasn't uncommon for soul mates to be born with age differences. Sometimes the separation of age was so large that people decided they didn't want to get to know their soulmate at all. The pain of losing the perfect person so quickly sometimes didn't seem worth the time together.

 

“At least this time I doubt it's fake,” Derek mumbled, putting his hand against his covered forehead. His father hummed in agreement and nodded his head slowly. Derek glanced at him, and then down at his hands. This wasn't the first time Derek had felt someone writing on his skin. The first time it happened, he was 15 and sitting in the middle of one of his classes. They had a substitute teacher, who had put on a movie, and sat behind the desk. Derek was staring at the back of Paige's head, feeling sorry for himself, but trying to be happy for her. A stylized S had appeared on her skin the other day, and now she was dating a guy who lived in the UK named Steven Rossborough.

 

There had been a sudden itch on his arm then, sharp and a little painful, so he scratched at it. But when the feeling didn't subside he looked down to see a swirling line pattern had appeared on his arm. He gasped softly and watched as a few more lines appeared. He stared at his arm, waiting for anything else to show up, but then the lights to the classroom flicked on and he looked up. His teacher was writing something on the board then, and as soon as she raised her arm, Derek saw the same marks on her arm. His heart leapt into his throat, as he watched her. She was older, obviously, and he remembered thinking she was so goddamn hot, that he was going to die.

 

But, it hadn't been real. She hadn't been his soulmate; instead, she was a hunter who wanted to kill his family. She had used magic to create the lines on Derek's arm; that's why they had hurt as they appeared. They burned their way across his skin making him wince when they appeared. It had been Paige who made him realize Kate was lying to him. Paige had told him her favourite thing was laying in bed late at night and writing messages to Steven. Derek had smiled and that night he tried, but Kate didn't answer. He didn't say anything to her, instead, he kept trying. Then, one day in class, he drew a circle on the back of his hand as she wrote across the board. Nothing appeared. He drew another, and another, by the end of class the back of his hand was covered in blue pen.

 

He confronted her, and everything had gone wrong. Derek ended up in the hospital, Kate was arrested, and his whole family knew that he had slept with a rogue hunter. They found out she had plans to burn their house down, and Derek almost let it happen. The guilt still sat heavily in his chest over ten years later. “Whoever this person is,” Matthew said, pulling Derek back to the present. “They will be perfect for you.” He held out an old Polaroid photo, one that was folded and scratched. The photo was of his mother, when she was about his age, looking happy and wild. In the corner of the photo was a kiss mark, made by bright red lipstick with a string of x's and o's underneath it.

 

“The lipstick held up pretty well,” Derek said, as he looked down at the photo.

 

“Your mother re-kisses it,” Matthew said. It made Derek snort out an awkward laugh and look up at his dad.

 

“Really?” he asked, but judging from the stupid smile on his father's face he knew that it was true.

 

“It was the first photo I ever saw of her. I had written my work schedule on my arm, and she had written back that jobs were boring. We exchanged addresses and sent photos. Then, a few months later, I moved to Beacon Hills and joined the pack,” he said. “Whoever your soulmate is, they will do the same or you will go to them. Even, if they're in high school now or an idiot or something else altogether. They will fit into your life perfectly, at least for a while.” Derek stared at the photo of his mom and tried to take in all the details of it. She looked so happy; before she was a mother before she was an alpha before she was anything but a teenager. He didn't feel that same excitement at the idea of finding his soulmate; instead, it formed a painful ball in his stomach one that hadn't left since that morning. Derek handed his father back the photo and nodded his head slowly.

 

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. Matthew pulled Derek into a hug and squeezed him tightly. Derek laughed a little and hugged him back. Then the two went downstairs where Talia and Cora were the only two left in the kitchen.

 

“Laura had to get back home to the kids, and Sam headed to work,” Talia said, as she set two plates of toast down on the table for them. Matthew pulled open of the chairs out from the table and then sat in the one next to it. Derek sat down beside his father, refusing to look at Cora, who was staring at him.

 

“Are you ever going to kick Sam out of the house?” Derek asked as he took a bite of toast. Cora huffed out a laugh and shook her head.

 

“Could you ever picture Sam out of the house?” she said, clapping her hands together near her face. “Oh! How could I ever live a day without my mommy?!” Cora said in a baby-like voice.

 

“That's true,” Derek said, “who would make him his lunches and tuck him in at night?”

 

“Oh, leave your brother alone!” Talia said, putting her hands on her hips. “We're wolves! We are meant to stay in a pack! I don't know how I raised so many children that won't stay home! I never moved out, I have lived in this house since I was born.” Derek and Cora both looked over at her, eyebrows raised, and matching frowns on their faces.

 

“Sam's the only one who isn't a wolf, Mom,” Cora said like she'd somehow forgotten. Talia made a noise in the back of her throat and turned away from the table, deciding her children were too much to deal with right now.

 

“I don't have time for this, I'm meeting with Deaton and the boy he is training to be our new emissary today,” she said. “I had hoped to have Derek join me, but he can't go with that hat on, and he definitely can't go with that drawing on his forehead.” Cora laughed and Derek groaned. He grabbed the edge of the beanie and pulled it down a little closer to his eyebrows.

 

“I'll come with you,” Peter said, coming back into the kitchen. “I hear the boy is rather fetching.”

 

“You're married, Peter,” Cora said.

 

“I don't know what that has to do with anything, it's not like getting married made me blind to beauty,” he said. Cora made a disgusted noise and slumped back in her chair, as Peter walked past her. “Besides, Corrine has no problem with me looking.”

 

“Peter,” Talia said, frowning at him.

 

“What?” Peter asked with a stupid grin on his face. A second later, Emily came skipping into the room, dressed and ready for breakfast.

 

“Daddy!” she said sharply, making Peter turn and look at her. “I want a big girl cup this morning,” she informed him as she climbed up onto the chair next to Derek.

 

“Very well, Princess, a big girl cup it is,” he said. Derek watched as Peter started to get Emily's breakfast ready so that Corrine could sleep in. He could see _thank you love you_ and a small heart on the inside of Peter's wrist. His chest tightened again, as he looked back down at his food. He wanted to go looking for apartments that afternoon, but he probably wouldn't be able to bring himself to go now. Instead, he planned to sit in his room, read until his eyes hurt, and the day was over.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup it's a mess.
> 
> I'm rereading this whole series and editing as I go. That way when I finally reach the end, I'll hopefully have caught most things, and be ready to start back in on finish the current story.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up in a panic as his phone alarm went off; someone else in the room groaned and threw a pillow at him. “What time is it?” Stiles yelled as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

 

“It's almost noon, and you need to shut up,” Malia hissed.

 

“Noon! Noon?! I have a meeting!” he shouted and scrambled to grab his things off of whoever's apartment floor. He yanked on his jacket, pulled on his hat, and stumbled into his shoes. He ran out of the apartment, stumbled down unknown stairs, and climbed into his Jeep t a frantic pace. He sped the whole way to Deaton's office, slammed into a parking spot, and dashed inside. He arrived two minutes before the meeting started, panicked and feeling like he might throw up. Scott was in the backroom as Stiles crashed inside, he sighed when the door slammed open but wasn't surprised. There was a dog sitting on the examination table, tail thumping happily against the tabletop. Scott stopped petting it as Stiles made his entrance.

 

“You made it,” Scott said, smiling at him.

 

“I hate you,” Stiles answered, leaning against the counter and panting. “It's an intimate get together, Stiles! It's fine, Stiles! Just one drink, Stiles!” he managed to snap, in between panting breaths. The dog on the table woofed softly, and Scott started to pet it again.

 

“Well, you're here, and everything's fine,” Scott said.

 

“Why didn't you wake me up when you left?” Stiles snapped.

 

“I did, dude. You told me you were gonna head home and shower and change. Even though I can tell you didn't,” Scott answered, and wrinkled his nose.

 

“Is it that bad? Will Alpha Hale be grossed out?” Stiles asked, sniffing at his clothing.

 

“It's not that bad, I mean—”

 

“You're not wearing that baseball cap in this meeting,” Deaton said, cutting Scott off as he came into the room. “Please follow me into my office, Alpha Hale has already arrived.” Deaton was through the room, and farther into the building before Stiles or Scott could say anything at all. Stiles took a deep breath, smoothed out his shirt and tossed Scott his cap. Scott caught it, looked up at Stiles, and then gasped. Scott had forgotten about the drawing, but there it was, on Stiles' forehead. The night before, after Stiles had passed out, Jackson had found a marker. He wrapped Stiles hand around the marker, and carefully guided it across his forehead, making Stiles draw a shaky penis. The chance that it might affect two people seemed super funny when they were drunk, but now it was horrifying. Stiles was gone before Scott could say anything, only managing a squawk that was meant to be Stiles' name.

 

Stiles had been training with Deaton since they discovered that he was a spark. It happened only a few months after a bunch of the kids in his high school had been bitten by a rogue Alpha. Scott included. The Hales had taken down the Alpha and taken all the kids into the Hale pack without question. It had been easy enough; Cora and Malia were in the same year of high school as most of the kids and friends with some of them. Stiles had watched his friends slip into the pack and their new family easily, but Stiles hadn't been part of that. He wasn't special or noteworthy, so there was no reason for him to be part of the pack. Of course, he still saw the pack frequently. Talia and his father were friends, working together to monitor the supernatural population of Beacon Hills. Stiles had wanted to ask to join the pack, but at the time he knew he wasn't good enough. But now, years later, he was a fully trained emissary who would be able to prove he was worth having around.

 

He took one last deep breath and stepped into the office just as Scott shouted his name properly. “Hello,” he said confidently, but the second Talia Hale's eyes landed on him, she was laughing. Stiles' eyes opened wide, in shock and confusion. Deaton looked up at him, and his normally unemotional face flashed with shock and then anger. Scott was behind him then, grabbing at his shirt.

 

“I'm so sorry!” Scott yelped, but Stiles was still confused.

 

“What?” Stiles managed, but then Scott was dragging him out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. Scott shoved him inside and closed the door behind them. The light took a second to flicker on, and Stiles finally saw his face in the old mirror. There, on his forehead was a penis, and Talia Hale Alpha of Beacon Hills, the woman he had worked for years to impress, had seen it. “Oh my god,” was all Stiles managed.

 

Scott was already soaking paper towels, managing to almost get more water on himself then the paper as he went. He turned and held the paper towels out to Stiles, who was still staring at his reflection in the mirror. The room was quiet, besides the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, and the water dripping from the paper towels to the floor. Stiles took the towels slowly, lifting the paper towels to his face, and he started scrubbing at the drawing. Every movement he made was slow and shaky. Scott watched in horror as Stiles scrubbed the black lines from his face, and then offered him dry paper towels. “I'm so sorry, Stiles,” Scott finally said. “It seemed like it would be funny at the time!”

 

Stiles looked at Scott, and managed “you drew it?” but Scott shook his head, and held his hands up in front of himself, to try and defend himself.

 

“It was Jackson!” he said. Stiles turned back to the mirror, stared at his face and then sighed. That was it, he was sure of it, Talia wouldn't want him now. He would have to start looking for a normal job or try and find another pack that was looking for an emissary. He would have to move across the world and hope that Talia didn't tell everyone she knew that it had happened. Scott, at very least, seemed to actually be sorry.

 

“Go back to work, Scottie,” he said, and after a second of hesitation, Scott left the bathroom. It took Stiles a few more minutes to build up the courage to go back to the meeting. He clenched his fists tightly, turned and headed out of the bathroom. Talia and Deaton were sitting in the office still, Talia smiling, and Deaton looking normal again.

 

“I'm really sorry about that,” Stiles said after he cleared his throat. “I was celebrating with my friends last night, and things seem to have gotten carried away.” Talia turned her smile to him now, and she patted the seat next to her. Stiles nodded and then carefully sat down.

 

“Cora was at that party, wasn't she?” Talia asked.

 

“For a while, yeah, but she left early,” Stiles answered, leaving his thought of _I should have too_ , unsaid.

 

“Mr Stilinski, I know you've been training with Deaton for a few years now,” she said, and Stiles nodded. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, sure that she was getting ready to tell him that she was planning on keeping Deaton. “And, I think that for now, Deaton will remain as my emissary,” she said.

 

“Ah, yes. I understand,” Stiles said softly. “That makes sense, of course, because—”

 

“Stiles,” Deaton said, to stop him before he could start to ramble. Stiles snapped his mouth closed and looked back at Talia who was still smiling.

 

“I think that for now, Deaton will remain as my emissary, but in a years time I would like you to take his place,” she said. Stiles' mouth dropped back open.

 

“What?” he managed.

 

“I'd like you to become the Hale pack emissary,” she said.

 

“But, I... I just,” he started, and then smiled. “Thank you so much!”

 

“There is a condition for this,” she said, and Stiles nodded eagerly.

 

“You must come to the pack house more often now. We will have an official welcome party next weekend, once the rest of the pack has returned home,” Talia said.

 

“Of course! I will be there whenever you want! Whenever you need! For any reason at all!” he said excitedly.

 

“Good, that's exactly what I wanted to hear,” she said and got to her feet. “I need to get going, but I'll make sure to get you the information about when to be at the house on the weekend.” Deaton got up as well and walked Talia to the back entrance of the building. Stiles darted from the room to find Scott, and hug him excitedly when he found him.

 

“She didn't care!” Stiles said, and Scott laughed.

 

“I heard!” Scott answered.

 

“I'm part of the pack!” Stiles cheered.

 

“I'm pretty sure you were already pack, dude,” Scott said, making Stiles laugh a little.

 

“Well, now it's official. Oh my god! I have to call my dad!” Stiles said, grabbing his phone to call. John let Stiles tell him about the whole thing, even the part about the drawing on his forehead.

 

“That's perfect, Stiles,” John said.

 

“We have to have a celebratory dinner,” Stiles said. “I want curly fries. And, just this once, you can have whatever you want.”

 

“That's so kind of you,” John said and then laughed. “But, I'll take what I can get.”

 

“The diner at 8 then? After your shift?” Stiles asked.

 

“Yeah, I'll be there five or ten after,” John said, saving a report and then sending it to print.

 

“Okay,” Stiles said. He grabbed a pen off the counter, and wrote dinner at 8 with daddy-o, on his wrist. “See you then. Love you.”

 

“Love you too. Congratulation, Stiles,” John said and hung up the phone. Stiles turned back to Scott, grinning so much he knew his cheeks were going to hurt later. His smile wavered when he noticed Scott was looking down at his arm. Allison must have written him a message, judging from the stupid smile on Scott's face. Stiles forced himself to smile again, trying not to feel bitter about the fact that he didn't have a soulmate.

 

“I should head home,” Stiles said suddenly, and Scott looked up at him.

 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Scott said. Stiles waved and went back to the Jeep. He drove off, a mess of feelings warring over which should be felt the strongest. In the end, the small victory of his new job didn't seem to hold up to the fact that he had no soulmate. He had discovered it over a year ago; Stiles had found a book hidden away in a trunk in Deaton's house. Inside there were all kinds of spells about love, romance, and soulmates. He found one that promised to reveal the first thing your soulmate would write to you. His heart had pounded in his chest when he read over the spell. Getting your soulmate mark was a strange thing, and it could appear at any point in your life.

 

Some people said it appeared when you were ready for it, but Stiles knew for a fact that it didn't work that way. Scott was a freshly bitten werewolf when his appeared. Stiles father had been an overworked fast food worker, in a dead-end relationship when he has appeared. But, in the end, they were happy either way. And Stiles wanted that happiness, even if it only last for a few years, like with his parents. So he had used the spell in the book, he had gathered the ingredients he needed, and cast it. It felt like fire was racing through his body, like it was searching for the spot it would appear, and then it fizzled out. Stiles searched his body, but there was nothing. No marks, no drawings, and no words. It felt like he had been punched in the gut when he realized it.

 

Thinking about it now, made the feeling come back, heavy and painful in the pit of his stomach. He had focused even harder on becoming the emissary after that because he knew it was the only way he would ever have a close family bond in the future. He focused on the fact that it was going to be a reality, that he would become part of the pack, and be able to see them meet their soulmates. He would be able to help with children and sick pack members. He would be wanted and needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mess continues! _As always, I haven't reread this, let me know where my mistakes are._
> 
> I'm going back and rereading everything because I know there are easy fixes in here and I should be less lazy.


	3. Chapter 3

More messages appeared on Derek's skin as the week passed by, mostly things his soulmate wanted to remember. Often, Derek would notice marks on his hands or arms that didn't look like anything at all. Like the person had gotten ink on themselves, he wondered what that meant his soulmate did or if he was just really clumsy. He hadn't gathered the courage to write anything back yet, still afraid that no answer would ever come. Instead, he noted the marks and was happy with the constant chatter-like writing that was suddenly in his life.

 

He looked up from a new patch of dark blue ink on his hand, like a pen had exploded between his thumb and forefinger. He stood in the lobby of a large apartment building, it was old and run down, but he liked the way it felt. The top floor was devoted to a single unit, a huge open plan loft with a small almost-second floor. The building was for sale, and while Derek had originally been simply looking for an apartment, he loved this place. There were only a few residents left in the building, and from what Derek heard when he knocked on their doors, a company was looking to buy them out. Derek offered the realtor the full price of the building, without even talking to his pack, but he was sure he could bring his mother around to liking the place.

 

There was an old Gorgon woman who lived there, who shook his hand and offered him tea when he stopped by. He was sure if his mother didn't already know the woman, she would love her. His mind raced as he planned out what he was going to do to change the place, and how he was going to fix it up. He almost didn't notice the itch on his forearm, soft and gentle, like a reminder instead of pain, but glanced down to see the words _Hale Compound 6:30 party time!!!_ Derek stared at the words as his heart rocketed into his throat. Did that mean his house? Was it possible that his soulmate lived in Beacon Hills? Then he remembered his mother's party, they were inviting everyone to welcome the new emissary into the pack.

 

Did he already know his soulmate? Was it one of the teenagers that his mother had taken in? Was it someone he had grown up with? He didn't even remember leaving the apartment building or getting in his car. It wasn't until he was parked in front of his parent's house, that he felt anything at all. There were already cars out front; he knew some belonged to pack members, but some he didn't recognise at all. He was inside a second later, looking around as his family busied themselves with setting the house straight. He pushed past aunts and uncles, looking desperately for his mother. He finally found her in her office, finishing some kind of paperwork before the evening came around.

 

“Mom,” he managed to say, as he slammed the door closed behind him.

 

“What's wrong?” she asked, abandoning her papers immediately.

 

“My soulmate is going to be here tonight,” he said. He shoved his wrist toward his mother, eyes wide and scared. She made her way around to the other side of the desk and took his hand in her own. She traced her fingers over the words like she was checking them for something.

 

“That's wonderful,” she said.

 

“No! It's not wonderful! I'm not ready for this!” he snapped.

 

“Oh, Der,” she said softly and pulled him into a hug. “Listen, you don't need to say anything tonight. Not to anyway, okay? If you meet someone nice, then that's fine. If you don't, that's fine too. Okay?” She ran her fingers through his hair, to try and sooth his panic. Derek wanted to shake his head, tell her that he couldn't be there; that he'd be back tomorrow, but instead he just nodded. She squeezed him tightly for a second before she let him go and turned back to her desk. “For what's it's worth, sweetie, I think it would be wonderful to meet them. You could write back to them. Say me too, or something.”

 

“No,” he answered firmly and she laughed.

 

“Okay, it was just an idea.” Then she was back to work just as quickly as she had given it up a second before. Derek watched her, torn between sitting on the couch in the office and going off to hide, but then he nodded to himself and left the room. He stood outside his mother's office for a minute, listening to the rest of the pack move around. He heard the front door open, and then slam closed, and someone shouting hello. He thought it sounded like Isaac, but he wasn't really sure at the moment. Then, he was running upstairs, showering and changing into nice clothing. And, before he knew it, he was looking himself over in the mirror. Fixing his hair, and running his hand over the stubble on his face.

 

“Dressing up for someone?” Cora asked from his doorway. Derek jumped and turned to look at his sister. “Peter's right, you're an awful werewolf,” she added and crossed her arms. She leant against the doorframe, her head cocked to the side, and a small grin on her face.

 

“Mom asked me to dress up,” Derek answered, but he knew that Cora could tell he was lying. She could see it on his face, even without having to listen to his heartbeat.

 

“You have your liar face on,” she said, but before he could say anything, she went on. “Well, the party is starting. Pretty much everyone's here. Hurry up, mom wants you to actually show up,” Cora said, then turned and was gone. Derek waited a few more minutes, turning back to the mirror one last time before he made his way out of the house and into the backyard. Most of the pack was already there, spread through the house and the yard, talking excitedly to each other. There were family friends, pack friends, and people Derek didn't know. He hurried through the crowd, smiling at people, and ducking past others. He found a spot near the drinks, grabbed a plastic cup, and then watched his family moving around.

 

He didn't remember there being so many pups in the pack, but there were shrieks of laughter that pierced the air. He watched his Uncle Peter chase Emily through the crowds, and his cousin Layla cuddling her newborn pup Evan. His chest tightened at the thought of what could have happened to his family, of what he could have caused if Kate had gotten her way. He refilled his drink and headed toward his mother, suddenly in desperate need of comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooooooooo. I had planned on having this finish in the next chapter, like I've mostly written it... But, should I keep going? Is the ending unsatisfying? I'm trying to think about how I would feel getting to the end... I think I need to write more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! I'm so happy you guys have liked it (unless you hate this part, then sorry)! As for writing more, I figured that trying to force more onto the end of this part of the story will be a mess, so I'm ending this here. But, I'm gonna keep writing in this universe, and I'll turn it into a series so if I get more ideas they can go there. ~~As always, I didn't reread this, I just finished it and posted it.~~

Stiles had been in the main Hale house before, but he had always felt out of place there. The house was old but it was well kept. He found that the stronger his magic got, the more he could feel the life of the place. But, it was different when he stepped inside the house this time, it felt like it was welcoming him home. He felt a sudden warmth rush through him, and a feeling he could only describe as belonging. Deaton hummed next to him, a soft note that made Stiles look over, but Deaton was gone before he could explain. Then Scott was there, crashing into him from the side, and hugging him tightly. “I'm so excited!” Scott said as he lifted Stiles into the air making him yelp.

 

“Me too, but you're gonna crush me!” Stiles said. Scott laughed and let him down to the ground. He grabbed his arm and dragged him through the house and out into the backyard. The yard was stuffed full of people, tables, and chairs. It wasn't dark out yet, but there were fairy lights hung from the trees for when the sun did set. Beyond the yard, Stiles could see construction work being done, expanding the Hale compound to put up more houses for the pack. Stiles knew that one of the houses being planned out back was for his dad and Melissa. He wondered briefly if he would be welcomed to live that close by someday, or if he would live in the town like Deaton always had. He didn't have much time to think about it before he was dragged into the middle of his friend group, most of whom were already members of the pack.

 

“So I guess the penis wasn't a deal breaker then,” Malia said, grinning at him.

 

“I can't believe you guys did that to me!” Stiles snapped, but the group just laughed.

 

“It fit,” Jackson said and stepped back as Stiles swung a half-hearted punch.

 

“I'm pretty sure Deaton had already convinced my mom that you were the one,” Cora said, before taking a sip of her drink. Stiles nodded a little because as the week went on, he had gotten that feeling as well. The meeting had just been a formality, he guessed.

 

“I can't wait for Deaton to retire,” Scott said suddenly, “he said I can take over the practice!”

 

“Wanna give me a job then?” Erica asked, leaning against Boyd. Stiles watched as the conversation spiralled away from him and he smiled. The same feeling of belonging seeped into his chest. He looked around the group, from face to face as they laughed, joked, and celebrated. Then he let his eyes scan the yard, this time for the people. He stopped when he found Talia Hale, standing next to Deaton, his dad, and both of her sons. He knew Sam well enough, the only human child, but he was smart. He had trained with the Argent's to learn how to use firearms, and Stiles' dad had been trying to convince him to become a deputy all year.

 

Then Stiles looked at Derek, the only one of Talia's kids that he didn't really know. Derek had been too far ahead of them in school, and then away at university when Stiles was around. Stiles' heart climbed into his throat, and his mouth went dry in a way he didn't think was actually possible. Stiles knew that Derek was good-looking, he'd seen pictures, and heard other people talking about it. But, seeing him standing there, smiling and laughing was something else entirely, it made his chest hurt. His eyes wandered over his profile, and down his body.

 

His eyes stopped on Derek's wrist; there on his skin was Stiles' note to himself. He looked down at his own wrist then back over at Derek. _Hale Compound 6:30 party time!!!_ was still scrawled over his skin. He took a sharp breath in, opened and closed his mouth before he managed to turn make eye contact with Scott and collapse. The next thing he knew, he was in Talia's office with Deaton, Talia, and his dad leaning over him. Stiles stared up at them for a moment before his whole body was in motion. “Derek has writing on his wrist!” he shouted.

 

“Yes, just like you,” Talia said softly, trying to keep Stiles from sitting up too quickly.

 

“He can't!” Stiles said. He pushed against her hands, rolled off the sofa, and onto the ground. He scrambled to his feet, avoiding his dad's grasp, and grabbed Deaton by his shoulders.

 

“What do you mean?” Deaton asked.

 

“I don't have a soulmate!”

 

“What?” John asked from behind him. Stiles looked back at his dad for a second before he turned back to Deaton.

 

“I-I found this book of spells, and I did one! I checked! The spell let me see what the first thing my soulmate would write on me. And there was nothing! Not even a tiny little dot. I checked everywhere, there was nothing! So—so that means,” Stiles took a deep breath in, “that means I don't have one. My soulmate died young, or-or, they... they aren't alive yet, or they—”

 

“You can't do love spells on yourself,” Deaton snapped and Stiles fumbled to a stop.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“You can't use your own magic to find out personal things about yourself,” Deaton said. “It would be like trying to use a marble to make that same marble roll across the room. There is nothing for your magic to propel.” Stiles stared at Deaton, mouth partly open, blinking slowly at him.

 

“Can't...” was all he managed before he spun around to look at Talia. “Oh my god! Did you know? Did all of you know?”

 

“Yes,” Talia confessed.

 

“For how long?” Stiles asked, now looking at his dad.

 

“Since the party,” John answered, and tapped his finger against his forehead.

 

“Oh my god!” Stiles shouted, “oh my god! He's going to hate me!”

 

“I think it will be fine,” Deaton said. “But you need to calm down.” Stiles stared at him for a minute before tugging at his hair and staring at the floor.

                "Calm down? I have spent the last year thinking I would be alone forever, how the hell am I meant to calm down?! I can't just--" Stiles rambling was cut off when there was a knock at the door. No one moved for a second, and if Stiles had been thinking clearly he would have realised why. Then Talia opened the door, a let Derek into the room. Stiles' eyes went wide again, and then Derek looked at him. The second their eyes met that warm welcoming feeling narrowed and focused. Stiles gasped softly and was barely even aware that Talia was shooing Deaton and John out of the room, and shuffling back to the party.

 

Later, when people asked how their first meeting went, no one believed it when Stiles told them that Derek spoke first. “Hi,” was all Derek said. Stiles just nodded at him, mouth still a little open. A silence stretched between them for almost five minutes, before he added, “I'm Derek.”

 

“Stiles!” he shouted, and then slapped his hands over his mouth.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Derek said and held out his arm out in front of him. Stiles yanked up the sleeve of his shirt and held his arm out toward Derek. He stared down at the matching words, and before he could stop himself, he was crying. Derek grabbed Stiles wrist and pulled him against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and buried his face against Stiles' neck. He took a long, deep breath and held on until Stiles was laughing instead. Then he yanked back, hands-on Stiles' arms, not wanting to lose contact with him just yet. “What?”

 

“Ten minutes ago, I thought I was going to be alone the rest of my life,” Stiles said. “Now, I feel so complete I feel like I'm going to explode.” Derek smiled softly, just a slight curve of his lips that made Stiles stomach flip. Then Derek kissed him, his hands going from Stiles' shoulders to cup his face. Stiles kissed Derek back, every part of him sure he was going to explode. His magic pulsed close to the surface of his skin, reaching out to grab onto his soulmate and pull him in. It was Cora that broke them apart, coughing loudly from the doorway.

 

“While I am happy for you both,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It's your party Stiles, and mom wants to welcome you officially. So, if you two could stop sucking face, that'd be great. Also, I'm sick of playing the go get Derek game.”

 

“You're just jealous,” Derek said.

 

“Yeah, of all the dicks that are going to appear on your forehead in the future,” she said.

 

“It'll be worth it,” Derek answered, once he'd turn to look back at Stiles.

 

“God, you're already gross,” she said, heading back to the party.

 

“I think I already love you,” Stiles said, so Derek kissed him again. He kissed him slowly and sweetly, making Stiles' heart skip a beat. He curled their fingers together, smiled, and tugged him back out into the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have a new question if you'll are up for it. How do you feel about non-G rated stories? If you've looked at my fic history I normally write Mature or Explicit stories. Would anyone be interested in the more angsty parts of this universe? Like, maybe what Kate did to Derek, the rogue Alpha attack in my version, things like that? I'm not saying that's all it would be, this has been a lot of fun, and I still have fluff for these boys. (I live and die by Fluff and Angst with a happy ending) Also, would you be interested in reading about them just generally getting it on? Because that can also be fluffy and explicit. Anyway, let me know, okay? I'd love to hear what you want to happen or what you're interested in!
> 
> Also, if you have a request message me, and I'll see what I can do. I'm also over on Tumblr at ihaveasoftspotforsatan.tumblr.com so you could request things there too if you want! =)


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